At last, late in the afternoon, I reached Rathmullan, and made fast my boat to the pier. I was to call at the inn and find my young mistress there.
And there presently I found her, and a bright vision it was for me that dull afternoon. She was a little maid, although she was a month or two my elder. Her dark brown hair fell wildly on her shoulders, and her slight figure, as she stood there gazing at me with her big blue eyes, was full of grace and life. Her lips were pursed into a quaint little smile as she looked at me, and before I could explain who I was, she said,—
“So you are Barry Gallagher? How frightened you look! You needn’t be afraid of me, Barry; I don’t bite, though you look as if you thought so.”
“’Deed, Miss Kit,” said I, “and if you did, I’m thinking there’s worse things could happen.”
She laughed, and then bade me get together her boxes and carry them down to the boat.
Strange! Half-an-hour before I had been groaning over my lot. Now, as I staggered and sweated down to the wharf under her ladyship’s baggage, I felt quite lighthearted.
In due time I had all aboard, and called on her to come, which she did, protesting that the water would spoil her new Dublin gown, and that if I sailed home no quicker than I had come, she supposed it would be morning before she got her supper.
This put me on my mettle. I even went ashore for a moment to borrow a tarpaulin to lay over her knees, knowing I should have to make a voyage all the way back to-morrow to restore it. Then, when I had her tucked in, and set the ballast trim, I hoisted the sail, and sat beside her, with the tiller in one hand and the sheet in the other.
She soon robbed me of the former; for with the wind behind us it was plain sailing, and she could steer, she said, as well as I.
“Keep a look-out ahead, Barry,” she said, “and see if I don’t get you to Knockowen in half the time you took to come. I’ll give you a lesson in sailing this evening.”